


Catching the Golden Snitch

by xenadragon_xoxo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenadragon_xoxo/pseuds/xenadragon_xoxo
Summary: Harry has always looked up to Oliver Wood, but now they’re snogging in the alleyway behind a Muggle bar and Harry, having never had any kind of sex before, has no idea what he’s doing.





	Catching the Golden Snitch

**Author's Note:**

> For hp-may-madness Day 14 - Prompts: The boy is mine / tattoo, Kink: first time.

Harry had always looked up to Oliver Wood. Well, perhaps “looked up to” was putting it lightly. Harry had been enthralled by him ever since he met him, and he was likely the reason Harry came to question his sexuality very shortly after meeting him.  
  
Harry never mentioned his crush on Oliver to anyone, but realistically speaking, he knew no one could blame him for being attracted to the former Quidditch Captain. He was athletic, he was cool, he was approachable, he was smart, and he had always been, at Hogwarts, unattainable.  
  
And that’s why it completely blew Harry’s mind that, at this very moment, he was being pushed against a wall in the alley behind a bar by none other than Oliver Wood himself, struggling for breath as he was being kissed within an inch of his life. He tried to keep up with Oliver, tangling his tongue with the older boy’s in his effort to stay up to speed, shivering when Oliver licked at his upper palate.  
  
Oliver broke the kiss and Harry gratefully filled his lungs with oxygen, but the other man had already leapt one step ahead. His mouth attacked Harry’s neck, licking a stripe up the side of it before biting down in a gentle but noticeable nibble, following the trail. Harry tried to hold in his moans, which sounded devastatingly embarrassing to his ears, but found himself quite unable to do so.  
  
One of Oliver’s hands trailed downwards, over his chest, snaking over his belt buckle and coming to rest over his crotch. Harry gasped, his hips bucking forward automatically…  
  
…and, barely touched, he came.  
  
There was a very audible pause. Oliver took a step back and scrutinized Harry’s face, which he was sure was blushing some terrible shade of red or other. “Did you just…”  
  
Harry looked away, already feeling his ears start to burn. “Sorry. I’ve never done this before.”  
  
Oliver’s dark brown eyes widened. “Bloody hell, Harry. Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry was starting to wonder if this had all been too good to be true and if his extremely good luck this night was going to take a turn for the worst when Oliver added, “I wouldn’t have gone so quickly if I knew!”  
  
“Oh.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry.”  
  
“No, don’t apologize,” Oliver said, waving away his meekness. “Do you still want to continue?”  
  
Harry blinked. “Of course I do!” He stopped, hesitating. “Do you?”  
  
Oliver nodded. “Perhaps we should do this somewhere softer,” he said. “Not behind a pub. That’s more of a random hookup spot, isn’t it?”  
  
A sudden pang of guilt filled Harry’s mind. Oliver hadn’t expected him to be so inexperienced. “You don’t have to,” he said. “You didn’t sign up for this.”  
  
Oliver laughed. “I signed up for _you_ , Harry.”  
  
An odd, warm feeling spread throughout Harry’s chest, and the strangest fluttering feeling was building in his stomach.  
  
“So,” Oliver said. “Your place or mine?”  
  
“Err…” Harry recalled the mess he’d left behind in Grimmauld Place before he’d gone out for a drink in Muggle London, and, completely by chance, bumped into his old Quidditch captain. Things had escalated quickly, without a doubt, and he was not prepared for visitors - even with Kreacher ambling through the halls and grumbling as he cleaned.  
  
Oliver chuckled. “Mine, then?”  
  
“Yes, please.”  
  
\--  
  
If Harry thought being shoved against a wall and snogged roughly was intimidating, it was nothing compared to lying flat on his back on a bed with Oliver hovering over him as they kissed.  
  
In comparison to the heated fervor from behind the bar, this was much sweeter. Oliver’s lips were hot on Harry’s mouth, as he allowed Harry to lead and dictate the pace. Harry found himself experiencing a rush of some sort of dizzying helplessness, as though he was in danger of being blown away by a hurricane and Oliver’s lips were the only thing tethering him, the only remaining thing that felt solid in a quickly dissolving world.  
  
Tentatively, Harry licked at the bottom of Oliver’s lips, and the Keeper hummed appreciatively, opening his mouth to allow Harry entrance. Oliver tasted faintly of alcohol, but somehow, mainly like summer, a neverending sort of warmth that set all of Harry’s insides ablaze. Their tongues danced together in a tango, slowly increasing in intensity and passion, as Harry found his hands creeping under Oliver’s shirt to touch the impossibly toned muscles of his stomach beneath.  
  
Oliver pulled away, drawing a protesting sound from Harry, to pull his shirt off over his head in one fluid movement. He tossed it away, revealing a large tattoo of a Golden Snitch obscuring most of the upper right side of his chest. Harry found it unbearably sexy.  
  
The distance between them disappeared once more as Harry, pulled Oliver back down over him and crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. Oliver let out a yelp of surprise which quickly turned into a moan when Harry took advantage of his open mouth to return to exploring the backs of his teeth with his tongue.  
  
Oliver broke away again, making his way down to continue his assault on Harry’s neck from earlier. His teeth grazed Harry’s flesh, earning several garbled cries, his hands once more making their way to Harry’s crotch. This time, mercifully, Harry didn’t cum on the spot, though he thought he might come pretty close if Oliver kept rubbing him like that.  
  
They paused so Oliver could pull off Harry’s shirt, and then he was pressing open-mouthed kisses in a trail across his chest. When Oliver gently swirled one of Harry’s nipples around in his mouth, all Harry could do was desperately cling onto Oliver’s shoulders as his mouth fell open, skin dancing with pleasure and a million other sensations he’d never felt before.  
  
Oliver began moving downwards even further, and when he made his way across Harry’s stomach, licking, nibbling, and kissing, Harry could already feel his entire brain short circuiting with pleasure. He wondered, vaguely, how he’d be able to survive anything more erotic than this. But he didn’t have much time to think on it before Oliver’s mouth had closed around the outline of his cock through his jeans.  
  
“Fuck,” Harry moaned, head falling back onto the pillow.  
  
Oliver made quick work of Harry’s jeans and briefs. “Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he murmured, and that was the last thing he said before he took Harry’s cock into his mouth and _sucked_.  
  
The sensation was almost too much for Harry. He keened, his fingers finding their way into Oliver’s hair as the older man skillfully bobbed his head up and down. Oliver hummed, the vibrations sending a rushing shiver up Harry’s spine, his toes curling as Oliver hollowed out his cheeks and continued unrelentingly. There were whimpering noises coming out of Harry’s mouth, ones he hadn’t even realized he was capable of making, ones that only seemed to spur Oliver on.  
  
Just as Harry felt he was on the verge of going over the edge with no clear way to stop it, Oliver pulled away with a smirk. Harry wasn’t sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief that he had the time to regain his composure, which he was quite sure had flown out the window and was halfway across the globe by now, or cry out in frustration at the loss of that beautiful, wonderful, talented mouth.  
  
“How far do you want to go?” Oliver asked.  
  
It took a moment for Harry to process what he meant. When he answered, he was surprised his voice wasn’t still shaking from a mixture of bliss and nervous anticipation. “All the way.”  
  
“I’d have to prepare you.”  
  
“I’m down for that if you are.”  
  
A smile played on Oliver’s lips. He whipped out his wand and waved it, muttering something Harry didn’t quite catch - and Harry suddenly felt a very cold feeling rush through his bottom that was not entirely enjoyable. He yelped in surprise.  
  
“Sorry, should’ve warned you!” Oliver exclaimed. “It was a Cleansing Charm.”  
  
Harry blinked. “You’ll have to teach me that one.”  
  
Oliver’s expression turned serious. “Are you sure you want this? You look… err… terrified.”  
  
“How can I not be terrified?” Harry exclaimed. “But I do want this. I want this very badly. I’ve wanted this for a while now.”  
  
Oliver waved his wand again, and a bottle of lube and a condom came zooming out of his bedside table and right into his hands.  
  
“Well, that’s a novel use of the Summoning Charm,” Harry grinned.  
  
Oliver rolled his eyes. “You’ve always had something smart to say,” he muttered. He flicked the cap off the lube container, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. “Ready?”  
  
“Ready.”  
  
Oliver finished coating his fingers with lube and then moved to pour some of the gel-like substance over Harry’s arse. It felt cold and strange, and Harry nearly jumped a foot in the air when he felt Oliver gently touch his entrance. Oliver waited for him to relax and then very, very slowly pushed one finger inside him.  
  
Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this unfamiliar sensation. It was… new. That was one word he could use to describe it. Oliver’s finger was rubbing against a spot inside him that felt equally unfamiliar. It was an interesting experience, and Harry, once again, supposed that “interesting” was one good word to represent the situation.  
  
Oliver slipped another finger into him, and Harry felt a dull discomfort. “Shh, relax,” Oliver soothed him, and Harry tried to do so. It must have been working, because slowly, the feelings became less “new” and “interesting” and much more “good”.  
  
Harry hadn’t realized it, but he’d been slowly canting his hips downwards to meet Oliver’s fingers. A third joined the previous two, and Harry, who had gone soft during the preparation process, found himself starting to stiffen once more. He quietly moaned, feeling a peculiar but not unwelcome sensation growing in his belly, increasing the rocking movements of his hips and trying to take more of Oliver’s fingers into him.  
  
“You’re eager,” Oliver teased.  
  
When Harry looked at him, everything seemed to be hazy, as though a cloud of lust had fallen over them. “Oliver,” he rasped, breathless. “Please.”  
  
Oliver’s jaw went slack. “Fuck, you look…” He trailed off, and within seconds, had removed his fingers from Harry and was hastily undoing his trousers. Harry whined at the emptiness, impatiently squirming as Oliver ripped open the condom packet and began to roll it on. Harry could feel his mouth beginning to water at the sight of Oliver’s fully naked form, watching as he fitted the condom over his rock hard length, and he made a mental note to give Oliver a thorough blowjob later. He’d need to learn how.  
  
“Oliver,” Harry said, the urgency in his voice sounding alarming even to him, ringing out louder than necessary in the quiet of the room. Oliver fumbled with the lubricant bottle as he tried to coat himself, and Harry wondered if something that thick would be able to fit into him. He found he didn’t care.  
  
Oliver quickly positioned himself at Harry’s entrance. The initial push was slightly uncomfortable, spreading Harry open in ways he hadn’t imagined he would ever feel, but Oliver took his time. A mild pain mixed with the heady desire and pure lust swarming through Harry’s brain, doing nothing to reduce the growing _need_ he felt.  
  
“Please,” Harry choked.  
  
Finally, finally, Oliver began to move, gently thrusting. Harry immediately felt like he was about to explode and gritted his teeth, trying to hold the feeling in, trying to stop himself from rushing over the edge far too soon.  
  
Harry cried out as Oliver picked up speed, and he practically mewled when the angle shifted just right to hit that same spot inside Harry that he’d merely thought was interesting before, but was now revealing itself to be the main source of Harry’s pleasure. He gasped and keened in reckless abandon, caring not about how loud he was being, his hands desperately scrambling for purchase and finding them on the sheets of Oliver’s bed. Oliver was moaning, too, deep and throaty in Harry’s ear, and it was all so much, _too much_ , but all Harry could think of was _yes, please, more_.  
  
He knew he couldn’t last much longer. Oliver’s movements were becoming more erratic, no longer following any steady rhythm, and his voice, rich with passion and arousal, was mingling with Harry’s. Harry could think of nothing but the thickness filling him, the smell of Oliver and sex in the air, and the intense, almost unbearable pleasure that had him nearly ripping apart the fabric beneath his fingers.  
  
Oliver reached forward and grabbed Harry’s aching cock in his hands. Harry screamed, back arching, eyes falling shut, and, unable to hold himself back any longer, he came, hard, his mind going completely blank as his body was wracked with shuddering pleasure. He barely registered Oliver grabbing onto his hand as he, too, reached his own climax.  
  
Harry was trembling as Oliver collapsed beside him, and the two men took several deep, heavy breaths as they came down from their highs, still holding hands. Slowly, they began to relax, and a sense of peace slipped over Harry. He wondered if Oliver felt that, too.  
  
The question was out of Harry’s mouth before he realized it. “Why a Snitch?”  
  
Oliver turned onto his side so he could look at Harry. “Hmm?”  
  
“The tattoo,” said Harry. His fingers absentmindedly traced the outline of the design. “You’re a Keeper, not a Seeker. So why a Snitch?”  
  
“It’s not that deep,” Oliver smiled. “It was just meant to represent Quidditch. It was my first love, after all.”  
  
Hairy raised an eyebrow. “You randomly chose any image for your first and only tattoo?”  
  
Oliver was quiet for a moment. It looked like he was heavily contemplating something. “You really want to know?”  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
“Well,” Oliver said. “When I was in my final year at Hogwarts, I developed this really, really big crush on the Gryffindor Seeker.”  
  
Harry nearly choked on his own breath. “What?”  
  
“Yeah. It’s not something I was particularly proud of at the time.” Oliver smiled, as though fondly recollecting memories. “I was of age, finishing my studies, and you were 13. It definitely made me feel a bit like there was something wrong with me, and it didn’t help that you seemed to feel the same way.”  
  
“So all that time… when I’d been staring at you…”  
  
“I noticed,” said Oliver. “I just knew it wouldn’t be right.” He chuckled, gently throwing an arm over Harry and pulling him closer, so their noses were nearly touching. Harry was pretty sure that the close proximity was going to cause him to spontaneously combust. “I wanted a tattoo that would symbolize my love for Quidditch, and what immediately came to mind was a Snitch - and I knew exactly why it was the first thing I thought of.” He laughed quietly, his breath, which tasted deliciously sweet, mingling with Harry’s. “I never thought the person who inspired it would actually ever see it.”  
  
Harry didn’t like the idea that there was a chance that this night would not have happened. “Would you have never reached out?” he asked. “If we hadn’t bumped into each other?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Oliver replied. “But now that I know what I would have missed out on, it seems a pity to think I might not have.” He waved his hand, as though pushing the thought away. “It doesn’t matter. This boy is mine now. I’m not planning on letting go.”  
  
Harry wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never been very good at coming up with nice words, or responding to them, not with anyone he’d been involved with romantically. Instead, he pressed himself further against Oliver. To his surprise, Oliver let out a quiet moan.  
  
Already feeling himself harden again at the idea of a second round, Harry ground his hips into the older boy’s, watching with pride as it elicited another hiss of pleasure from him. As they kissed, hands wandering over the skin of each other’s bodies, exploring, Harry had the very cheesy thought that he felt quite like he’d caught the most valuable Golden Snitch in the world.


End file.
